


The Prisoner Exchange

by Vermilion_Sunrise



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Desire, Dubious Consent, F/M, Her Power, Love, Rituals, Sacrifice, Severus as the Dark Lord, Soulmates, his love, new world order
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-06-23 12:25:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15606237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vermilion_Sunrise/pseuds/Vermilion_Sunrise
Summary: A/U and SS/HG Pairing: After the death of Voldemort, Severus Snape has become the new Dark Lord. Though his relationship to the Order is a bitter one, he seeks to mend the wizarding world his way. A chance prisoner exchange between the Death Eaters and the Order provides him the perfect opportunity to claim a woman he thought lost to him and to set his victory in motion.





	1. One Girl for Ten Aurors

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like this one. It's always a pleasure to add to the SSHG lit :-)

**Chapter 1: One Girl for Ten Aurors**

  
  


They had chosen the Great Hall at Hogwarts as the most neutral place to negotiate the prisoner exchange now it was just a matter of details. The atmosphere was naturally tense as Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore sat there across from one another, flanked by several of their most loyal supporters. Severus observed his mentor turned enemy with open distaste as the old man read, read and reread the prisoner exchange contract before him. He did it so as to cover up his growing feeling of anxiety that Dumbledore wouldn't agree to it. What he was asking for was bold, perhaps even telling, but it had to be done – he had to have her. She was the most important piece of the puzzle and after several long years he was more than ready for her, he was so close to victory he could almost taste it.

 

Two years had passed since Potter and Voldemort had destroyed themselves in a battle that had even put Severus' hair on end, and yet the war continued. Albus had continued on as the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, but he had never quite been the same after that. It could have been grief, the dark curse spreading from his withered hand through his body. . . . age. Whatever the case, his old master had become petty, obsessed, angry and above all dangerous. With that the numbers fighting for the Order had begun to dwindle. Without their cover boy, it was becoming harder and harder for Dumbledore to attract and keep people fighting for their cause. Though annoyingly they were still putting up an organized resistance, dragging this out longer than it had to be.

 

For his part Severus had become the new Dark Lord, though 'My Lord' was what he preferred to be called. It had been thrust upon him against his will, but he did not shy away from his duties. He was born to lead, the role was a natural fit. He had tried to reason with Albus in the beginning, tell him it was a unique opportunity to change the culture of the Death Eaters, to eventually decrease the anti-Muggle religious fervor that Voldemort had created and promote a healthy practice of the Dark Arts for those who wanted to practice them. However, the old man would hear nothing of it, had spat and cursed at him and had Severus removed from his sight. Thus Severus had taken his place as head of the Death Eaters, and had been surprisingly successful in changing them towards another focus – a religion with no name but that could be traced to the beginning of wizarding kind. It promoted balance in the practice of magic – the good with the bad – so to say and it upheld the belief that those with non-magical parents were enormously powerful because they were aware of their powers in an uncultivated environment. It posited that they breathed life and diversity into the wizarding community – while Severus himself believed this, it had been a challenge to convert the Death Eater masses.  _ No matter, they will see for themselves once I have her. _

 

Finally satisfied that there was no trickery written into the contract, Albus signed it with a quick scribble of his quill and Severus almost visibly relaxed. Maintaining his composure he signed the paper as well watched the contract curl up, duplicate itself and land gently in front of both men. Severus had no intention of lingering there was much to be done, he pushed his chair back from the large mahogany table between them, stood up and turned to leave as Albus said, "Why her Severus? Why Hermione Granger?  One girl in exchange for ten Aurors. . . ."

 

He turned back toward his former mentor, eyebrow raised, assessing the old wizard's face. The old man had a weary look on his face mixed with a particular mistrust that had been his fashion as of late.  _ How dare you speak of her in that way, as if she has no value. . . chattel to acquire and sell at will.  _

 

It had disgusted Severus that Albus would want to hand her over for a couple of Aurors, who were not particularly skilled in any way – but who was he to complain when he was getting exactly what he wanted. Manipulation was a key trait to a slytherin and he had played Dumbledore for a fool.  _ It will be better to lie to him,  _ Severus told himself as he paused dramatically.  _ Something he is more than willing to believe will be best. _

 

"I like them young and fresh Albus. I do hope for her sake she is a virgin, it will make her blood even more sweet to the taste." Severus hated this sentiment and shuddered at the thought of what he had said, but throwing Dumbledore off of the scent of what he had planned was much more important. The old man was more than willing to believe that nothing had changed since Voldemort's more than timely demise, he smirked internally at this notion. He was rewarded by a scowl on the older wizard's face. "Oh. . . . give her this." He threw a small white lamb's wool dress on the table in front of Albus, "She should come to me with only her wand – no other personal possessions. She won't last long enough to enjoy them."

 

Albus picked up the dress, mumbling something as he often did to himself and turned to exit the Great Hall. Severus watched him leave, then let out a sigh of relief. He knew deep down that this feeling of relief would be temporary, there was much to prepare in the next six hours. . . the ritual had to be perfect. He would need to mentally prepare himself for the things he must do and hoped that she would eventually learn to forgive him for these acts– for if he didn't act now she would be lost to him forever.


	2. The Unwilling Prisoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione learns she is to be traded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been great to read this story again and to be reminded of where my writing nearly started. I'm looking forward to posting my SS/HG stories on this forum and then slowly but surly finding some more inspiration for making more. I've been so focused on GoT that it's been almost overwhelming....thought slowly I feel the pull for this pairing again. Cheers!

**Chapter 2: The Unwilling Prisoner**

Her oil lamp was on the verge of burning out when Hermione Granger finally finished her work for the Order, it was late, far later than she had wanted.  In the years after her graduation and particularly after Harry’s death, she found herself more and more confined to the Order headquarters at 12 Grimmauld Place.  At first she had gladly researched magic, kept record of the numerous documents, contracts, histories and deaths that had come as a result of the war. Now she was nothing more than a glorified secretary for Professor Dumbledore, a little princess kept in a less than glamorous, rather ramshackled tower.  It had made her bitter, as if the deaths of Harry and Ron hadn’t done that already, but not having the satisfaction of actually avenging them had made it worse.

Hermione rubbed her eyes and closed her ledger; dust flew up in little swirls in the dim lamplight.   Dumbledore had changed so much in the last years – the burden of the war had taken its toll on everybody, but he in particular had suffered.  She owed him her loyalty, stayed here out of duty . . . . or at least that was what she had thought. She had actually tried to leave the Order headquarters, only to find it locked and warded from the outside.  When she had complained to Professor Dumbledore he explained it was for her own safety, that there was nothing outside of the house she could want. . . . _ the freedom to come and go as I please would be a start. . . . _

After that there were no two ways around it, she was a prisoner in this place.  It was a nice prison with a comfortable bed, but a prison just the same. She yearned for more, to do more, to make a difference in this seemingly losing battle they were engaged in. Something had changed in the Death Eaters since Voldemort’s death, something fundamental.  All the evidence was in front of her and yet she could not put her finger on exactly what had changed since Snape had taken over.

It was then that the door opened to the Black Family Library, startling her from her train of thought, the form of Albus Dumbledore made its way to her.  He looked tired, but that was nothing new. He handed her a paper,  _ ahh the exchange contract _ , she realized.  She looked up at him, hoping for some kind of further explanation.

There was a coldness in his eyes that she could see even in the low light, it was uncharacteristic even for him, “Miss Granger I would ask you to read this now and tell me what you think.”

She unrolled the contract though her gaze lingered on his face,  _ what is wrong with him? _ There was something different in his demeanor, a strange shift in his voice perhaps, a bizarre gaze in his eye. . . . . she walked to the fire place several steps away from her desk then turned her back to it, using the stronger light to illuminate the words.

_ I Severus Snape being of sound mind and body _ . . . . .  _ blah blah _ . . . . she skipped the obligatory paragraphs her eyes scanning for the meat of the agreement.   _ I agree to the exchange of my 10 Hostages _ . . . she skipped over the names she knew all too well. . . . .  _ for one Hermione Jean Granger _ .   _ She is to be delivered to me _ . . . . She swallowed hard at this, not believing her eyes.  She read the sentence again, to make sure her eyes had not betrayed her.

She looked up to see Professor Dumbledore, who was patiently waiting for her reaction.  Noticing her speechlessness he started, “Why Miss Granger? Why does the Dark Lord want you?”  There was a bitterness in his voice she did not like, he was suppressing anger.

“You agreed to this?” her voice was more shrill than she had wanted, it was becoming impossible to stop the flood of emotions – above all the anger – that flowed through her.  “I am not your property. . . . “

“. . . no you are the Dark Lord’s.  Don’t lie to me child, you must know what he wants.  Have you been feeding him information? Have you been spying for him?”  The sudden evenness in his voice startled her. She gripped the contract hard in her hand and moved toward him.

Her eyes narrowed and her breathing became quicker, “Never.  I would never. . . . but you. . . . . you cannot give something away that isn’t yours.  My life is NOT yours!”

“When you swore your life to the Order Miss Granger you neglected to read the fine print I’m afraid. “  He inhaled, assessing her, “I need those Aurors I need them to win this war.”

“You would sell me to them. . . . to an organization hell bent on destroying Muggle-borns. . . . . you would sell me into torture and death for. . . . for . . . .“  She was so distraught at the situation that she could not even think properly, so mad she couldn’t put a proper sentence together.

“Sacrifices must be made Miss Granger, you of all people should know that.”  He said it with such an odd contempt that Hermione wasn’t sure how to even continue the conversation.  “You are a resourceful young lady, I’m sure you will find your way.” He threw her the dress he had held in his other hand it fell on the floor at her feet, “He wants you to wear this, bring nothing except your wand and be ready at midnight.”

She was shaking from anger and shock, the contract clenched in her hand.  She knew the charms on it were too strong for her to destroy it, but she crumpled it nonetheless –it made her feel better.  She had nothing more to say here, there was nothing to reason through. Hermione scooped up the dress, turned on her heel and throwing the contract in the air slammed the door behind her. 

Once in her room she screamed as loud and as long as she ever had, taking out her frustration on her pillow.  She punched it hard pushing and pulling and banging her fists in whatever mismatched way she could to get out her swell of betrayal and anger.   There was a moment in which she realized she was not getting enough air, she was hyperventilating, that she was choking on her own air and tried to calm down putting her hands on her mirrored dresser. Her eyes were red from her tears, her hair a mess, her chest heaving. .. . .  _ calm down, calm down _ , she tried to tell herself. 

_ Think logically, it’s not Professor Snape’s style to take something he doesn’t need.  He’s at least not Voldemort in that sense. He’s very methodical this way. . . .but why me? _  He had never shown her any sort of regard before, no more or less than anybody else.   _ Why do you need a Muggle born witch? _  If there was one thing her “desk job” had given her it was a good overview of the war, battles and attacks.  Attacks on Muggle witches and wizards had gone down in the past 18 months, were almost not hear of in the last six, though Dumbledore didn’t discuss it.  The more scared and uninformed the Order was, the more he could use them to fight. It was clear that their tactics had changed, but how was still unclear.

Her attention then turned to the white lamb’s wool dress Dumbledore had given her and she ran her hand over it.  It was soft to the touch, a beautiful fabric,  _ a fresh beginning? _  She slowly removed her clothes in the dim light of her room and pulled the shapeless dress over her head.  Almost immediately is fit itself to her with an empire waist running chastely over her hips, only showing a glimmer of her figure.  The sleeveless dress with a high neckline was almost virginal. . .  _ or sacrificial _ .  She let her wild hair go, not bothering to comb it allowing it to twist and weave its way over her shoulders.  She could hear her mother’s voice in her ear saying, “Be careful what you wish for my dear.”  _ Yeah well, I wanted a change didn’t I?   _ she reminded herself sarcastically.

The grandfather clock in the hall struck a quarter till midnight, the sound pounded through her chest – her stomach clenched.  She agreed in this moment that whatever might happen, she would do her best to approach it with an open mind. An open mind would be her window to the world and the only way she could remain sane given the circumstances.  Her bare feet were silent on the cold wooden floor as she slowly went to the door of her room, not looking behind her she gathered whatever strength she could muster, put her reluctance to the side and met Dumbledore on the stairs.  Whatever was about to happen, she would at least be glad to be rid of this place.


	3. The Exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prisoner exchange is made and Hermione gets a short glimpse of what is to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy. I've made some changes to this chapter from other posts. I think -- at some point -- I will take the time to revamp this entire story. Fill it out, make the perspectives more clear. There's been a change in my writing since this and I would love to improve on this story -- even if its a sad one.

#  Chapter 3 The Exchange

 

They had chosen an open field in the middle of nowhere to do the exchange. Snow had long since covered the dead grass that had once graced this place, making the reflection of the moonlight even brighter than normal. The wind whipped Severus’ hair around him as he peered off into the distance, waiting for Hermione to appear. The old man was late, and Severus had little patience for such games. 

 

Just as he was about to pack up the Aurors and leave with his men, Severus noticed a small speck moving toward them in the distance. As she came into view, it was clear Hermione was cold, her arms wrapped around her body in a vain attempt to keep warm. A single line of bare footprints behind her, her wand at her side and her curls tousled about her head, Hermione made her way alone across the empty field. 

 

“Allow them to walk to the otherside.” Severus ordered his men. Then turning to the Aurors he said, “Don’t think for one second you can save her. Make one move to steal her away and you are all as good as dead.” 

 

With that his hostages began to make their way to the other end of the field, eventually catching up to, then surpassing Hermione.  She was so close now he could see her face more clearly --  _ She’s more beautiful than I remember. _

 

When she did make it to him, shivering cold Severus pulled the hood of his cape over her wild curls, taking a moment to cover her shoulders as well. Then he muttered something in a language Hermione could not understand. 

“Harivat she milque a nun, sarivat she pailque,” he muttered,  _ You come to me with nothing, yet I surrender to you everything.   _

 

It was with these words that the ritual would be set into motion. Severus’ stomach clenched at the thought, his heart raced with excitement as he looked at her standing before him. He motioned her to stand at his side.

Severus had not been brought up to believe in ‘messiahs’ or ‘chosen ones’, it was not one person that would make a difference in this world, it was through teaching, training and the act of giving that peace could be grow. There were no gods or half gods in this religion that was older than recorded time, and yet if there had been Hermione would have been very close. Her raw power was more than Severus had even known or read about, something that came along once a milenia. 

 

Yet, she would not be able to do anything with it until she was taught and until she had matured –  _ Marriage in the old ways the dark with the light,  _ _ a proper rite of passage.  _ Only then would they be able to bring peace to a war that had gone on far too long.

Hermione observed him quietly out of the corner of her eye while they stood in the whipping wind of the field, waiting for some kind of sign from Dumbledore. Severus Snape was exactly as she had remembered him, not a hint of grey in his jet black hair, tall with the posture of a dancer and enigmatic. Extremely enigmatic to be clear.  Had he chosen her for a purpose, though it was not detectable in the depths of his eyes or in his body language. Then a green flare flew up from the far end of the field,  _ Our sign to leave.  _ She thought.

Relieved that the paranoid old man was satisfied that all of his precious Aurors had been returned to him in relatively good shape, Severus turned slightly and offered his arm to the young lady next to him. The feeling of her gripping him, even through his clothes, was better than he had expected. The pressure of her well formed, tight body against his as they appirated was even more exhilarating.  

 

_ Control yourself, there is still much to be done,  _ he scolded himself.

He made sure the landing in his private chambers was a bit rougher than usual.  Severus needed a moment to collect his thoughts before he would actually speak to Hermione. He walked across the room, putting several paces between them, and watched her collect herself from the floor. His cloak had fallen off of her and was lying in a pool of sorts at her feet.  She looked around the room, gaining her bearings.

The room had a certain stern style to it that was both functional and luxurious, Hermione knew that it could only be the work of Severus Snape. It fit him perfectly, not one empty space in the book shelves that lined most of the room, a comfortable sofa with an armchair for reading, an antique potions work station inlaid with some of the most beautiful wood work she had seen. . . .and the bed – large with comfortable looking pillows spread around and not a wrinkle in the smooth dark green sheets that adorned it. 

She turned to find him, suddenly nervous and asked, “Where are we?”

“My private chambers Miss Granger. May I offer you a drink?”

He was tense, she could sense it in his voice, but his reasons and motives were as of yet unclear.  She shook her head, suddenly finding herself mistrustful of him, the words Dumbledore had been saying about Death Eaters and their leaders running through her mind. 

“Will there be a revel?” she asked, surprised that this thought had slipped from her lips.  Revels were horrible things where Muggle-borns were brought, tortured, raped and killed for the Dark Lord’s pleasure.   _ Please don’t make it this,  _ she pleaded as if somebody were listening.

Severus cocked his head to the side slightly,  _ She thinks I want to torture her.   _

 

It was then he became angry,  _ Damn the old man and his stories – he would turn her against me when he already knows I’ve banned such things.   _

 

When Severus did speak it was hard to contain his anger at the situation, “No, Miss Granger not tonight.”  She flinched at this words, a sign to him he had not contained his anger properly. 

 

He quickly continued, his tone more even, “You will be my guest of honor tonight and you have my word that no harm will come to you.”  This seemed to both ease her and confuse her. 

 

Severus wanted to pull her to his chest and tell her everything would be alright, tell her that she was safe now,  _ Everything she has heard about me is a lie and yet I should not sway her _ , he reprimanded himself,  _ she must choose of her own free will tonight. _

His eyes were still locked with hers.  “This is Endo and Moore, my house elves.  They will see to it that you are comfortable and bring you to me when the time is right.” 

At the mention of their names two elves appeared, both dressed in nice clothing – this confused Hermione even more.   _ They are free and yet they are still here,  _ she wondered to herself. 

 

Severus said something to them in this language that she had heard before and both stared at her in awe.  Endo was about to kneel when Severus stopped him.  _ What in Merlin’s name is going on here? _ It was as if the world had turned upside down and she was right in the middle of it. 

As he turned to leave one final question escaped her lips, “Why me sir?  Why give Professor Dumbledore back all of those Aurors for. . . . for me?”

Snape closed his eyes and inhaled trying to calm himself.  It was the second time in a very short time he would have gladly taken off the old codger’s head.  It was a crime that she was unaware of her potential and of her true value, his answer came out harsher than he had intended, he turned back to her, “You are aware of how the barter system works are you not Miss Granger?”  

 

She said nothing so he continued, “You give something that is of little or no value to you, something you would happily part with, for something of greater value.  Let’s just say I succeeded in making a great profit tonight.” 

As he spoke those words to her his tone changed, his voice was deep and silky, husky as he, in his own strange way, hinted at how much he cared for her.  He could see her face change from confused, to shocked. Before Hermione could utter another word he left, the door swiftly shutting behind him. 


	4. The Wise Old Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus voices his concerns about the nights events, while Hermione becomes even more unsure about what is to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

#  Chapter 4: The Wise Old Lady

The potion was cooling on his desk while Severus sank lower in the bath he had drawn for himself. The tub was an old copper one with a high back, made for Victorian era people, who were clearly shorter than he was. The tub was, however, sufficient to properly clean himself despite how cramped he felt. Severus was preoccupied with the ritual that would happen later, it was old, there were no full texts on it. . . . and it was not clear what effect the potion would actually have on her.  

According to the texts Hermione would play the role of Asherah, the mother, the giver and he, along with 4 other volunteers, would play the role of her possible consorts.  Should the texts be accurate, she drinks the potion and then chooses . . . . but how or on what basis was not clear or had been destroyed by the passing of time. Severus doubted it would be as easy as that -- knew there was more to the ritual than met the eye. Though once the choice was made they would be given the right to guide the people, a sort of wise pair among equals – all his followers were clear on this – a new order would be installed tonight one that would keep the light with the dark, the good with the bad. Hermione was strong enough magically to bring it to reality for she encapsulated raw power the strongest he had ever seen with his own eyes.

It was then that the door to his lab opened quietly and the sound of shuffling feet and a cane could be heard. He knew who it was, and he grinned, “Aunt Matilda, I see you’ve left your thirty cats all to themselves to take part in tonight’s festivities -- I am both honored and astounded.” 

His sarcasm was tempered with a friendly tone, Matilda Prince was his Grand Aunt to be accurate and nobody knew exactly how old she was. Just that she was old, blind from birth, well versed in the old ways of magic and had probably invented sarcasm. She was also powerful, with a high concentration of mana as the old text called it. The raw power in each person Muggle or Magical. Once some Death Eaters came to her house to intimidate her into joining their cause, they had heard about the old bent over witch that lived isolated in the woods of northern England and, in truth, wanted some easy prey to torture. Though Matilda never said exactly what happened, she was blind of course -- she couldn’t really see what was going on, just that when they had tried to use magic on a blind, wandless old lady, “They got what was coming to them.” They never recovered all of the pieces of these Death Eaters from her yard, it had looked like they had swallowed a stick of dynamite – the smell was overwhelming. Nobody would go back there and that was all for the better, she had no interest in good or bad, light or dark, just her brewing and her cats. 

Severus was glad to have her here.

“Ha that’s one hundred cats to you Severus Snape. . .  and honored?” The old hunched caricature of a witch spat on the floor and made her way closer to his tub, avoiding all obstacles in her way with grace and ease, “I’m here to make sure you don’t ‘ _ honor’  _ yourself into an early grave. If this girl is as strong as you say she is, she’ll blow half of you up with a sneeze.  Of course I have to come see her in person.” She sat on a freshly conjured stool near his head.

“See her?” he arched an eyebrow and turned to look at his aunt. She looked the same as she always had,  _ she was probably been born that old,  _ Severus mused to himself.  Her white hair was pulled back in a messy bun, deep wrinkles marked her face and her eyes -- well her eyes looked like galaxies. A deep black mixed with the white meshing of cataract, she had the Milky Way in those eyes – both beautiful in their way and scary to those not used to it. 

With that Matilda let out a hearty laugh.  “You don’t need eyes to see child.”

Matilda had always loved her nephew, he had taken after her in many ways, though he had gone down some wrong paths in his day, she was relieved to see that he was back on the right track.  She ran her knobbed, arthritis-ridden hands through his wet hair. There was so much you could learn about a person through touch, over the years she had developed a form of legilimency that functioned through touch. Now she should feel her nephew’s fear, it was not of death, but of rejection.  “What is it you truly fear tonight my child? You have never had any regard for your own life, what is there left to lose then?”

Severus sighed, “I could lose her for the second time tonight.  My chances are one in five.”

The old lady hummed to herself for a moment, “You know her better than any man or woman taking part this evening. This is to your advantage.”

“I was cruel to her when I should not have been. I. . . . “ He was searching for the words but his mind was blocking him.

“Cruel? Bah. . . Cruel was that Lord Volde. .  . Voldepo. . .whatever his name was. Cruel is of little importance here, she will need somebody who compliments her, who can guide her in the way she wants to be.  She must develop her power with the help and influence of another. Though what she wants -- we cannot say. We cannot delve into the hearts of others, that would make us gods -- and gods do not exist.”  She paused, mostly for dramatic emphasis, “Appeal to her and if it isn’t clear how to do that, then you are not worthy.”

Her point was clear.  She had never been one to sugar coat the truth and Severus appreciated it. He looked at the clock in his lab,  _ half and hour to go,  _ he thought.  “The others have no problem with you officiating?”

“No and even if they did – I’m the only one who can heal any of you if something goes wrong.  This is raw magic my boy -- not some ridiculous wand waving.” Matilda had just as much of a knack for killing as she did for healing, for this Severus was equally as grateful.  

She was a wise old lady,  that gave him some sort of comfort.

* * *

 

Hermione had had perhaps the funniest most entertaining bath of all time. The elves were constantly fighting over who would scrub her, brush her hair and dry her.  It would often end with them splashing water everywhere and chasing each other around the room it what was akin to hilarious -- though she did her best to be gracious and not laugh too hard.   _ Wow, how long has it been since I’ve laughed? _

It was still surreal to know that now she stood in the Dark Lord’s chambers in front of a large full-length mirror admiring their work.  Her hair was curly and fell naturally over her back and shoulders, almost half the length of her back. The elves had woven small spring flowers in her hair, they smelled wonderful and gave her the look of an earth goddess.  Her dress was in a Greek goddess style, white and sleeveless in a sheer material. The sheer material covered her breasts but let the pale color of her nipples come through. Her belt was a golden serpent wrapped three times around her waist, its head resting just below her sternum, the tale came to her lower back.  

She looked beautiful, more than beautiful -- but it didn’t still her sense of uneasiness about what was happening.  She knew nothing about why this had happened and what was going to happen. Severus Snape was the Dark Lord, the leader of -- well she wasn’t sure of what anymore. 

It was then that the door opened and she turned to see a bent over old woman with a cane enter. She was an ugly old lady, the dim candle light only made her wrinkles appear deeper than they were, and exaggerated her hunched back.  After a time Hermione found her voice, “Who are you and what is going on here? I’m not going anywhere until I know more.”  _ That came out a bit shakier than I wanted. _

The old witch made her way to the center of the room and looked in the general direction of Hermione.  With both hands resting on her cane serenely she spoke, “My name is Matilda Prince and this is my home you are a guest in.  Well to be honest, I never liked this place too opulent, too much distraction for my tastes, so my nephew Severus keeps it for me.” 

“You are the Dark Lord’s. . . . “ Hermione began.

“Oh don’t call him that my dear,” The old lady grinned revealing all of a handful of teeth, “...he doesn’t need a bigger ego. In my house he’s my nephew. What you are doing here though -- that is more complicated to explain.”

Hermione could detect the flare for the dramatic that Professor Snape had in class in this old witch, otherwise there was little to no resemblance. She was pleasant in a way, but Hermione could sense there was more to her than met the eye.  She decided to remain silent and let her continue.

“First come a little closer my dear, I am old and both my eyes and ears are failing me. Come now, don’t be afraid.”  Matilda smiled, showing how few teeth she still possessed.

Flashbacks of Hansel and Gretel came to her mind, the fear of being sized up for food crossed her mind almost comically. Yet Hermione slowly moved toward the old woman despite these fears, continuing further as she was beckoned.  Out of the blue the old woman grabbed her arm with surprising strength and pressed her wrinkled cheek to Hermione’s inner wrist. She resisted the urge to pull back. 

Matilda hummed for a moment allowing herself to travel though Hermione’s mind.  Severus had not overstated her prowess, she was strong her aura blue. . .  _ rare, very rare _ .   _ Either she will kill the world or sacrifice for it, but which?   _

Once the rites were over there would be no going back, no more stopping the domino effect it would cause.They would unleash her true power, something the girl probably didn’t know she had.   _ Her disposition would lend her to either. . . .I could kill her now, put a knife in her back and be done with it, but then we’d never know.  Decisions, decisions,  _ the old lady debated.   _ She will need love, strong guidance if she is to lead us. _

Almost as quickly as Matilda Prince had grabbed Hermione’s hand she released it, turning her face up to the girl and smiling she said, “You are very special as far as magic goes, or did my nephew not tell you?  I can’t tell you too much, or it would spoil the surprise -- just know, my dear, that nobody in that room today can do you harm. Not a one. Have no fear, for fear is the killer of all things. . . .”  _ She will live, and should I be wrong well, nobody will be around to know,  _ Matilda laughed to herself _.  Don’t fail me Severus. . . . _

“But. . . . “ Hermione began to say.

“No more time for questions Asherah, we don’t want to keep them waiting.” It was with that Hermione was lead out of Professor Snape’s chambers more confused than when she had entered them.


	5. The Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione participates in an ancient magical rite, and chooses a worthy consort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope all is well. I wanted to get this chapter out. There are a few perspective changes, so be aware. This is one of my older, though revised works. Still loving it. I hope you enjoy!

#  Chapter 5: The Journey

Matilda Prince leaned heavily on Hermione’s arm as they made their way through the extensive mansion. The hallways were dimly lit, almost completely hiding the intricate and ornate architecture that had come from another era. The weight of the old woman and the steadiness of her breath kept Hermione’s mind off the gravity of the situation, the mysterious event that was yet to come.  

 

_ Fear is the killer of all things,  _ she reminded herself.  

 

They turned a corner and there toward the end of the hallway on the right she could see light streaming from beneath a door with a fairly large gap at the bottom. The light flooding the hallway was almost blinding in its contrast to the dark that surrounded her and the old lady, but Matilda didn’t seem to mind – she lived her life in utter darkness, some extra slivers now didn’t make a difference.

They drew closer and Hermione could hear the muffled sounds of people talking and moving inside the room. Her stomach clenched, and she instinctively clutched the older woman closer.  _ I don’t even have my wand,  _ she thought,  _ I am powerless in there.   _

 

Fear overcame her, she was about to walk into a room full of witches and wizards who despised her, who would stop at nothing to kill her. Hermione’s stomach was doing flips as they stood in front of the door,  _ Is this what you feel before you are sacrificed?  The sinking feeling of being powerless, your own destiny predetermined? _

 

Then, as if the old lady had been listening to her whole internal monologue, she turned her head in the general direction of Hermione’s and said, in the ominous way only an old witch can, “If you do exactly as I say in there, you will not need a wand.  Remember child, nothing in this life, and sometimes even in death, is final. It is time for you to drive  _ your _ destiny. Our destiny.”  The smirk that crossed Matilda’s face was one of childlike excitement mixed with an omnisciently evil streak that had the effect of unsettling Hermione further.

Matilda pushed the nearly five meter high doors open and almost immediately a hush came over the crowd. Hermione’s eyes squinted at the introduction of such bright candle light into the dark hall, but even then it was clear to her that the large and grand ballroom was packed with people. A small corridor through the crowd almost immediately opened up to allow Hermione and Matilda to walk toward a slightly raised area of the ballroom, with an exquisitely engraved altar in the center. The room held an eerie silence, that kind of silence that happens when everybody knows what’s about to happen except you. Hermione did her best to hide the slight tremor she felt as they walked the barely two person across path to the center of the room. Some people she recognized, old school classmates who had mostly been in Slytherin. They had been mean as children to her – she hadn’t forgotten. Her head held high as she and Matilda made the small climb to the top of the platform, Hermione fought to keep the flush out of her cheeks. Everybody was staring at her, she could feel their eyes upon her.  When she turned she was blown away by the sheer amount of people she saw crowded in around them, eight-hundred. . . perhaps more. 

“Behold, Asherah comes before you tonight. She is the mother, the giver and most importantly the connection to our true magic. Magic makes us what we are -- though few of us understand its source.”

 

All eyes were on the old woman as she spoke to the crowd.  “She comes not only to prove herself by going on her journey and surviving, but to choose a consort.  For power must be balanced with wisdom, as man with woman and light with dark. To those who will participate in the journey this evening, remember she will see you for who you really are, this can be both liberating and horrifying.”  

 

Matilda paused to allow for somebody to speak up if necessary, of course nobody would.  “Those who would be her consort step forward but take care, there may only be five. If there are more, only a fight to the death will settle it.”  

 

There was a fire to the old woman’s voice that would suggest that she actually would not have minded a battle to the death to start the night, but to Hermione’s relief five stepped forward.

Severus had been watching the scene from the shadows, drinking in the entirety of it all. He had achieved much in a short time, even a year ago her entrance into this room would have spelled sudden death and now, the so-called Death Eaters were watching her intently – curious to see the power held within Hermione’s tiny body.  They also knew that if any of them were to lay a hand on her he would not hesitate to turn them to dust. Severus grinned to himself, threats like that were less and less necessary these days and he was pleased. 

 

When called he stepped forward along with four others. He had known more or less who the others would be and this made him nervous for various reasons. The Carrow twins, Alecto and Amycus, were violent and evil, nothing could really change that nature in them. They had a two out of five chance to turn her to them. . . that was certainly better than he had.  Blaise Zabini was an interesting and odd entrance into the mix. His motivations were unknown to Severus and that made him uneasy. The boy had never shown an interest in her while they were in school, though never had he for that matter. That left Draco Malfoy as the fourth suitor. The boy had changed a lot after the demise of the first Dark Lord, and was a lot for the better. He was still a Malfoy through and through, but had taken to Severus’ teachings. He was young and good looking -- many things that would appeal to a young woman in a way that Severus could not.

Matilda beckoned them come on the large platform and take their places at five points drawn on the stage in a ten foot radius surrounding the alter. Hermione eyed them as they made their way past her. The journey, the choice of consort -- it was so abstract that this whole experience would be better described as out of body, something happening to somebody else and not her. Once all were in their places they dropped their robes, revealing their naked upper halves, and lowered themselves to one knee, wands in their hands. After an uncomfortably long moment Matilda turned toward Hermione whispering, “If you agree to them say ‘rise’.” 

In an almost automatic way Hermione said, “Rise.” They did indeed all stand, facing toward her in the middle, wands at their sides.

Hermione could hear the voice of the old woman chanting in a language she did not know, the mass of people below them following. With the power of almost a thousand voices she could feel the reverberation in her chest, then she saw Matilda raise a chalice that had not been there before.  With this the suitors raised their left hands open palm toward her in their right hands small knives. On the old woman’s command all slit their palms, allowing the blood to run down – their faces expressionless. Slowly Matilda went to each of the participants and collected a drop of blood in the chalice, which already had the potion Severus had prepared earlier. 

Severus did not flinch when he drew his own blood nor did he change his expression as it dropped into the chalice before him, though his stomach was tying into knots.  It was going to be their direct connection to Hermione’s journey, the way they would follow her down the rabbit hole so to say. Severus knew the properties of the potion she would take, it was made of very specific forest mushrooms known for giving hallucinations in Muggles and then fortified with various herbs, bark and ground up animal bones. This would have the dual purpose of eliciting a strong hallucinogenic vision in the drinker, she would become more uninhibited while allowing her to tap into the unique power that was the center of her being - and she would be taking them with her.  It had been over a thousand years since rites like these were performed, in a time when wizards were only just coming into being - his stomach lurched with anticipation and excitement. They would have several hours to prove themselves to her, be chosen and to cement their bond.

The wild curiosity flooding Hermione’s mind heightened her senses to what was going on around her. She had read in some very very old books about blood magic, it was the oldest and most pure form of magic. . . . rarely used in this day and age and when, then in dark rituals. This had none of the hallmarks of a dark rite and all the hallmarks of something almost pre-historic. Her dress, the language of the incantation and yet she had never read of Asherah, did not know what she had in common with her or what was expected. The chanting from the crowd grew more intense as Professor Snape dropped his blood into the chalice, he was the Dark Lord and the final participant to do so. Her eyes caught his as he did it, she could see a deepness in them that he had once kept hidden from her - an open desire for her.  

 

_ No time to dwell on that,  _ she told herself as her attention was caught by Matilda’s sharp swift movements.  The old lady was singing and as she did so the potion bubbled, from her height she could see the color change from a putrid black color to clear.

“Drink Asherah,” the old witch ordered.

Hermione hesitated, then took the cup in her hand and swallowed. It was the most bitter, disgusting thing she had ever tasted, the chalice fell to the floor making a large clang as she too dropped to her knees in an attempt not to heave the potion all over the floor. 

Her breathing was so labored, as Severus chanted the words with the others that he wondered if she was having an allergic reaction. She was writhing now on the floor and screaming, awakening his protective instincts, but he held back seeing as his Aunt was not the least bit concerned. He could feel nothing, though it was fabled that those who participated in the Journey would also come with her and would feel the pull of her energy, it was said to be intoxicating, addictive even. It was then that out of the blue, as if all at once, a clam hit her, her eyes looked up through the mess of hair that had been covering her face and her eyes were white -  blind - though as she stood it was clear she was not actually blind, but locked into her fantasy. 

 

_ The Journey has begun,  _ he thought.  It was then that he gripped his head and fell on his knees on the floor, by the sounds of it the others had too. Severus felt like his head was about to explode as he was connecting to her, she would be the master of her own Journey tonight and he would have to deal with what would come. 

Once the connection was complete Severus slowly stood. It was an amazing feat of magic that took a moment to get used to. When he closed his eyes he could see Hermione’s hallucination, induced by the potion. She was alone in a beautiful forest standing peacefully in a small clearing. When he opened his eyes he could see the inside of the ballroom, the platform surrounded by onlookers, the consorts all blinking to confirm what they were experiencing and his Aunt seated neatly at the edge of a platform, both hands on her cane, staring serenely into the distance.  He knew that as long as he stayed where he was or behind that position Hermione would not perceive him in her immersive dream world, the range of the connection was not very large. 

From the time Hermione had opened her eyes she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the beauty of the place she had found herself in. Every summer her parents would go to the north of England and they would spend countless hours in this old timeless place. The first thing she realized was that she felt amazing, like her body was floating. Her skin was conducting feelings of pure inner joy and happiness.  Her skin prickled with energy. It was then that a path formed from her clearing and she was taken with the urge to follow it,  _ I have to find it. . . . but where to begin?   _ She didn’t quite know what ‘it’ was, just that it was attached to something of great importance. She had no memory of what had come before her and had no perception of what was to come, all she knew was that she must make her way, she must find ‘it’. 

So off she went, with her bare feet on the soft dirt making her way slowly down the path, in the vacuum of a dream. Severus first observed her through his closed eyes, taking in the surroundings she had created looking for hints as to how to approach her. It was then that a sound made him open his eyes to the reality of the ballroom.  It was Alecto and Amycus, preparing themselves and moving forward. Alecto had never been a beautiful woman, topless even less so Severus noted, but she was always one to fight for what she wanted and often too violently. Severus watched her approach Hermione from behind only to slowly make her way into Hermione’s line of vision. She gripped her wand firmly in her hand and began to cast a charm over her, they were allowed to use magic but it was very unclear how Hermione would perceive magic used in reality in her hallucination.  Closing his eyes he watched the scene unfold in Hermione’s potion induced world. 

The way was very pleasant, some slivers of sun coming through the tall canopy of trees in the forest.  It was hard not to have a smile on her face as Hermione made her way down a path that was sure to lead her to her final destination .  . . . whatever that was. However for now, it wasn’t a huge deal, she would find it eventually. All of the sudden there was a very beautiful bird that stood in her path, blocking her from continuing.  Hermione observed it for a moment, truly in awe of its plumage and spread. 

“You are blocking my way, you silly thing.” Hermione said almost jokingly.  There was something odd about this bird, something that both attracted her but made her uneasy.   _ But why am I so uneasy, this is my wood and nothing can harm me here.   _ She stared a moment longer wondering how she might gently move the bird out of her way when she was forcefully grabbed from behind. 

Hermione didn’t know what could have done it, but it grabbed her quickly around the arms and threw her violently to the ground. She found herself struggling with a black figure; it was shapeless with an aura that was disgusting to her. The beautiful bird began then to squawk and peck at her hands and arms, keeping her from fighting the black cloud. She began to scream and kick, throwing her arms wildly around in an attempt to gain any edge.

Bile rose in Severus’ throat as he watched the scene unfold both in Hermione’s dream and in reality. Though what was going on in reality enraged him more. Leave it up to the Carrow twins to devise a way to reach the end goal as quickly as possible. Alecto was doing her best to control Hermione’s arms while Amycus was ripping at Hermione’s dress attempting to both pull it off and expose himself. It was said that whoever “forged a bond” with Asherah would be her consort, would benefit from her power. Though it seemed they had neglected to read the part about ‘willingly choosing’. Severus took a moment to look around the ballroom; all eyes were locked on the scene unfolding. It would stupid of him to intervene, and yet. . . . . . if the Carrows were to succeed. . . . 

Fear had taken hold of Hermione as she struggled against the shadow being and its bird companion. Nothing was supposed to hurt her in her wood and now she was kicking, screaming and biting -  and for what? There was suddenly a flood of emotion that overcame Hermione as she came to the realization,  _ this is MY wood, these are MY trees and this is MY path.  _ She stopped struggling all at once as a calm entered her body replacing the fear that the shadow being had tried to create.  Hermione was pinned, her arms behind her head and her legs spread open, so she lifted her head closer to the shadow, narrowed her eyes and said in a faint whisper, “You have no power here.”

It was at this point that Severus and the other three suitors were blown backwards from the sudden blast of power that came from Hermione Granger, Asherah reborn.  The ripple of force that came from the epicenter that was a young Muggle woman of twenty one also happened to throw everybody to the floor in the ballroom except for Matilda, who seemed to be rather stable with her cane and stool – a serene smile still on her face.  

 

His eyes wide open to reality, Severus sat up to look at what had happened, checking himself for bodily injury. From the looks of it you could have fit Amycus Carrow into a matchbox, there was almost nothing left but ash.  His sister on the other hand was letting out the most blood-curdling scream Severus had heard in awhile, her arms were missing and burns covered her body. As if the screams annoyed her Matilda then began making her way, in a clam and metered pace, to the young woman to tend to her.   _ Not some silly wand waving indeed _ , Severus said to himself.  

 

In a single breath Hermione had repelled the evil of the Carrows, vaporizing one and severely, if not mortally, wounding the other and she. . . .well as he closed his eyes to rejoin her on her Journey, she had dusted herself off, straightened her hair and continued on her path in the woods – unaware of the pure destruction she had just caused.   

 

_ She will see you for what you are, and dispose of it in due course.   _ In a way Severus wasn’t surprised, she had always been consequent.

An uncontrolled burst of pure magic was not a common sight to see, it had sent a ripple through the crowd. There were whispers, screams and awe as the Death Eaters watched this Muggle woman fight off her attackers, wandless and without assistance. Zabini made a run for it, having soiled himself too frightened by what had just happened to care to continue. Severus smirked and looked over and Malfoy.  Malfoy would not be as stupid as the Carrows and not as spineless as Zabini and yet, what would he do?

Hermione continued her way down the path, satisfied that she had dealt with the evil that had crept into her wood. Instead she would now focus on the absolute beauty within and continue her search for ‘it’. She felt closer for sure, but not quite there.  She would need assistance if she was going to reach ‘it’, but how? As she made her way from the edge of the wood through a small field, she noticed something off in the distance that grabbed her interest. It was a beautiful golden stallion running free in a field just down the way. He was the most gorgeous horse she had ever seen, but shy as he was not so apt to approach her.  Hermione just had to get a better look at him, so she left the path she was on and went to approach the beautiful horse. 

He ran so wild, prancing with his tail and head held high, you couldn’t help but want to pass a hand across his snout. Slowly Hermione approached him, one hand out to show she meant no harm. The jumpy young stallion looked her in the eye and snorted a bit, flicking his tail.  He was nervous but curious as well, Hermione grinned. 

Severus was no longer amused watching this scene, as a matter of fact it made him nervous. Opening his eyes he could see her approaching Draco with a hand out to feel him, her curiosity peaked.  The first step was this part, where she would vet a potential partner, he couldn’t let that start, then he may never get a chance. He had to act and now. . .  _ but how? _ This whole forest illusion had a sort of allegorical feel to it the path clearly meant something. . . . .  _ So how do I use this to my advantage?  _

His golden coat was soft as she moved her hand over it.   _ His aura is also pleasing,  _ Hermione thought to herself as the shy stallion began to slowly gain confidence.   She ran her hand down the length of his body, trying to see if she could gain his trust. Her focus suddenly shifted toward a nudge on her thigh, it was there that she saw the back end of a very beautiful black panther.  He took a few steps and then casually looked back, as if he could not understand why she would not follow him. 

Her focus on the stallion interrupted, she realized suddenly that she had lost track of the path. . . . she was in this field with this horse and somehow they had wandered off.  She was suddenly very nervous at the prospect of losing her way and the path. . . .the path was going to take her to the end, to ‘it’. She wasn’t in panic mode yet, but she needed to make her way.  She withdrew her hand from the horse and began to look for the path, running first one-way and then another,  _ I’m lost – but I can’t be lost. _

Now the realization that she was stuck there began to creep over her. The stallion bucked her gently with his head, but she would not be swayed.  He was a pleasant distraction, nothing more. She needed the path and ‘it’ and she needed to be on her way.  _ But how?   _ The nudge of the panther was more forceful this time as she watched it walk past her and then again look back at her. There was a confidence in the animal, something that made her want to follow it in this moment of desperation. He was calm, cool and collected. In no hurry to get anywhere, just waiting for her to patiently follow. So she did.

In reality Severus had very skillfully shifted Hermione’s attention towards him by gently holding out his hand to her.  No magic, no incantations, just her interpretation of him in her dream, he just stood there hand held out to her and said, “I know the way.”

Matilda let out a sigh of relief, knowing now that some of her teachings had made their way into that thick skull of his. 

In her dream, Hermione placed her hand on the panther’s back signaling her readiness to follow him.  He slowly, evenly and with great easy lead her through the field, down a small river, back into the woods and then at long last, to the path she had been on before. She was so relieved, she smiled at the animal, who seemed to pay her little mind as he continued down the path, looking back to make sure she was coming.  She walked side by side with him making sure she could see him out of the corner of her eye. Her fight with the bird and the shadow being had made her wary, but with time she relaxed. The panther seemed to relax too, slowly wrapping his tail around her leg and purring to her touch. 

It was hard to say how much time had passed before they reached the end, it was a small dead-end clearing with a soft mossy floor. The panther strutted over, found a soft place in the moss and sprawled himself out knowing he had come to the end and could rest.  Hermione smiled, this was ‘it’. She stood in the middle of the clearing and looked up at the sky – those onlookers in the ballroom would dispute what happened next, reality seemed to be quite different from what she had in fact experienced during her potion induced dream.  As she breathed out Hermione could feel a rush of energy take her and lift her in the air, it was a benevolent force – it was her own mixed with something that had always been there, something she had never known existed until this point.

At this Severus had attempted to open his eyes, tried to compare what he was seeing in the vision to what was happening in reality – but when he opened his eyes he was stuck in the clearing.  He was stuck watching her pull on a hidden energy, her mana, watching her blue aura come through. It covered her body in a glow that gave her a wild and yet serene appearance. When she touched the ground, she was different. Severus couldn’t quite place what it was exactly, but when she looked upon him in his animal form, she seemed wiser.  As if she was channeling the knowledge of those before her, as if she had tapped into a well of knowledge and power that had long been forgotten. She was beautiful in this moment, almost childlike in her innocence of what was happening but oozing power that had yet to be reined in.  _ Such a dangerous beauty,  _ Severus noted. He would need to be careful.

Hermione felt rejuvenated when her feet again touched the ground, she turned to the panther who had since sat up and was watching her with interest.  “You have brought me to where I need to be, safe and unharmed. Ask for anything and if it is in my power I will give it to you.”

This was it, the point he had waited for, that he had fought so hard for over the years -- it was humbling he was almost brought to tears. In this form he could not speak and yet, as this thoughts turned to her as his reward an altar appeared in the clearing in the woods.

The altar was somehow familiar to Hermione, it as beautifully carved and intricate, as if it had come from a dream or another lifetime. She blushed, for she knew instinctively what it meant.  

 

“You wish that we be joined together.  To be my guide and protector.” She knelt down and looked the panther in the eyes, her wild brown and gold ones staring directly into its deep black ones.  “Show me who you really are, then I will know if I can give you your wish.”

In that instant Severus’ animal form melted away leaving him nude and on his knees, as she was on hers, face to face with perhaps the most powerful witch to have walked the earth. In her eyes there was no recognition of who he was, or any memory of him that Hermione might have had, Asherah had no memories of Severus Snape. She only knew the panther, her guide and protector. 

Hermione’s eyes washed over him a moment, but she was not looking at him she was looking through him. She saw a man of great sorrow and anguish, a man who had made mistakes and learned from them. A man who had loved, lost and had been forced to do many things no creature should be made to do. In him she saw change, a yearning for more and for something better. She was overcome with tears as she took his hands into hers. He was wise and caring -- a man who could complete her.

As she began to speak a language previously unknown to her, a language that only the elves really knew, Severus sighed with relief. He had done it. He repeated the parts he needed to and watched in awe as she channeled the raw magic of the ages through her, then slowly through him too. What happened next would be disputed until the end of time, some say that a light shone so bright when Severus said his final words to her – marrying her in the old ways, that it nearly blinded everybody in attendance. Others say that the power of their binding was so strong that it brought all those in the ballroom to their knees – at any rate Severus had never felt such strength and such power. He feared it would rip him apart.  His hands in hers, his eyes looking into hers – her lips on his – it was the kiss he had always dreamed of. It was full of passion, desire and then suddenly lust. 

The ritual was not done until they forged their bond, a bond that was in magic, mind and body. The first two were completed, now for the physical part.  Severus had not imagined that her inhibitions would be overcome so quickly so as to pounce on him as she did, but he was not one to complain of such things. He had been on his knees with her now, she had him flat on his back. The weight of her naked form on his was a welcome one, one that he had often thought of the last several years.  He wrapped his arms around her gently at first allowing her to rake her body across him as she kissed him mercilessly. 

 

Severus was not new to being observed as he performed sexual acts, but the audience that formed in the ballroom was much larger than any he had ever encountered. He knew they were there, even if he could still not yet see them due to the effects of the potion. Despite his knowledge and concerns Severus’ erection was strong and ready, its willingness to take place in ritual apparent through the speed with which it had filled with blood. Hermione was rubbing her slick cunt against his iron length so wantonly, that Severus almost feared he would ejaculate outside of her body, spoiling the ritual. Quickly, and hoping not to incur the wrath, Severus flipped her over on her back, taking a chance to look her over. She was beautiful, still under the influence of the potion, but she had changed. She seemed older, wiser more at ease with herself. She was watching him, sucking in his aura, feeding off of it -- the feeling of intimacy was indescribable. Taking a moment to smile at her, Severus quickly positioned the head of his thick cock at her entrance. She was wet for him, wetter than he could have imagined. He slipped himself in what he thought was gently, but she immediately used her legs around his bum to push him in completely. Her moan would have made any man her slave, certainly all the men in the room were beginning to find their own sexual partners. 

As he blinked on occasion he could see the potion was wearing off in effect, he was slowly no longer in the clearing with Hermione but on the platform in the ballroom of his family home, atop a large circular bed that had not been there before.  Later he would swear up and down that Matilda had put it there, she would argue it had just appeared out of need. Either way it served a purpose, to prove to all those in attendance their claim to one another. In the old days it was not uncommon for a newly wedded pair to consummate their marriage in the attendance of their family and clan, in this instance it was important that all those keeping the faith, so to say, were in attendance. 

If the potion was wearing off on Hermione she didn’t seem to notice as the rhythmic sound of their coupling filled the room.  Her entire body was sensitive, her wants and desires screamed out for more to a partner only too happy to oblige her. The smell of his sweat, the taste of his body the feeling she had when she held him close and raked her nails down his back were all necessary to forge a lasting bond. It was also a test, for a good partner would need stamina something deep inside her knew that -- wanted to test her male counterpart to his limits. Hermione kissed his neck and allowed her finger tips to slide over his arms and back.

Her wild screams and encouragement were all Severus needed to keep going, and persevere he did. She was demanding in her wants and passionate in her lovemaking. He knew it was a test, the ancients were obsessed with masculinity and virility. It only seemed fitting that Hermione, under the influence of such a potion, would be geared toward these kinds of desires. But the thought of having her several times in quick succession that night did not deter or demoralize him -- he had been waiting for it for longer than he cared to admit. Preparing himself for the day they might be together. Severus marveled at the fact that she would give him everything so openly, so willingly. It was truly a gift from the gods. Hermione was, and always had been, what all witches and wizards had started out being -- a Muggle with a magical gift. She oozed raw and unbridled power, and she was sharing it with him. 

 

By the time they were finished he had emptied himself three times inside of her.  She would not let him rest until she was sated. In the end he held her in his arms, her face turned in toward his chest staring down at the absolute miracle that was Hermione Granger. 

It was only then that Matilda Prince stood from her chair at the edge of the platform and turned to the crowd that was in various stages of arousal and undress.  

 

“Should anyone doubt the power of Asherah or the correctness of her choice speak now, otherwise leave us.  Allow them to rest and come to you on the morrow.” 

 

The low whispers of people and she shuffling of feet were the signs Matilda needed to hear, to deal with anything more than she had to tonight would have been hard on her old body, this she knew.  Slowly she made her way to her nephew, who was still cradling his partner in his arms. She handed him a lamb’s wool blanket she had conjured out of thin air and waited the appropriate amount of time to speak.

“You made me proud nephew.” Came the gravelly voice of Matilda.

Severus turned his face toward his grand aunt, after having gently wrapped Hermione in the blanket, “Yes. It is a great honor to have been chosen by. . .”

“No not that.” Matilda cut him off, “I meant the other thing. I haven’t heard a woman scream bloody murder like that in years. That’s the Prince blood in you.”  She smiled and slapped Severus hardily on the back. She chuckled to herself, knowing he was rather uncomfortable with the comment.

“Indeed.” Was all Severus could say.  He looked over at the other edges of the platform to see a charred body and a neat pile of ashes.  “What about the Carrows?”

Matilda grinned, it was a knowing grin, one that chilled Severus to the bone.  “They were unworthy. There was nothing I could do to save the girl. . . . .such a pity.”

Severus knew his Aunt all too well, her dripping sarcasm was a clear indication of the value she gave the lives of the twins.  They would not be missed, not in this new era he and Hermione would forge together. “I see.” 

“Well if everything is in order, I’ll be on my way.  Those cats won’t feed themselves you know.”

“What happens now Matilda?” In all of his life Severus could not say that he had never not known what to do, but this.-- this was uncharted territory.

Matilda let out a full cackle, one expected from an old tough witch like herself, “How the hell should I know child? Just don’t you come bothering me with things of insignificance Severus Snape, or you’ll see how mean I can really get.”  She raised her cane forebodingly, though pointed it about twelve degrees in the wrong direction of Severus. 

 

“Now you take care of that girl, we’re lucky she didn’t kill more people tonight.”  She waited to allow the proper amount of suspense, “Judging by how you turned her head, I would say you are on the right track.  Trust yourself and above all, trust her. She is channeling the power of the ages now, she just needs a partner in this world like any other person. To keep her grounded.”

It was with a soft pop and a light puff of smoke that Matilda Prince left the ballroom that night. Leaving her nephew alone and slightly confused with the only hope to rebalance the wizarding world snoring lightly in his arms.


	6. Where do we go from here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione realises what has happened and has does her best to comprehend what Severus' plan has been all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a very long time since I posted an update to this story. I'm sorry for that. I have published the full story on other sites but decided now that I wanted to change the direction. This had a very dark ending, one that was fitting at the time but never set well with me. So I want to do something else, but that something else is still forming in my mind. So I have cut this chapter and added a few end paragraphs to keep it open. I think I know where it will go from here, but need some time to consider it. ;-) Anyway, thanks for reading and following this story. Hugs to all!

#  Chapter 6: Where do we go from here?

Consciousness came back to Hermione slowly, like single raindrops in a tiny pool.  The ripple effect only caused her confusion, unable to distinguish reality from a dream. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to regulate her breathing, doing her best to wake her body. The smells of the room were not familiar as were the soft sheets that covered her. The last thing she could remember was . . .  _ What is the last thing I remember? _

She sat up racking her brain, knowing she had been brought to the Dark Lord’s chambers, remembering her slow and steady walk through a dark manor house.   _ But what happened next? _ Flashes hit her, a forest, a walk, fear, uncertainty, desire. . . .  _ An alter? _

In her distress she turned to see a sleeping figure of a topless man lying with his back to her, a distinctive mop of black hair left her no room for mistaken identity.  

 

“Oh sweet Merlin!  We. . . I . . . we said our words, I’m,” she couldn’t quite wrap her brain around it, “I’m Mrs. Dark Lord!”  The words flew out of her mouth in disbelief as her mind began to focus on her partial recollections of the ceremony, then shifted to the slight soreness between her legs.  “Oh Shit!”

It was a slight chuckle from her bedmate that turned her attention back to the real world. Hermione turned her head to her former professor, he was shirtless and running his fingers slightly through his hair, a knowing smile on his lips. 

 

“Well those wouldn’t be the exact words I would choose.” Severus made a move to come closer to her, not surprised that she scrambled to move away. The potion had muddled her memories; as soon as they straightened out she’d have way more questions than she did now and hopefully a bit more clarity.

“You stay away from me.” She warned, moving closer to the edge of the bed.  “You. . . we. . . “ her frustration was growing, she just could not fathom what she knew in her soul had happened.  “The potion. . .it was a lust potion. You tricked me.” Her tone was accusing.

Severus raised his eyebrow and grinned, she hadn’t quite figured out that she was naked, the dark silk sheets falling at her waist her delicious breasts exposed. It was a pleasant sight to say the least.  

 

“A lust potion?” he scoffed, “Oh I assure you Miss Granger if somebody in this room should be ordering the other to ‘stay away’ from their person it would be me.  You have quite the,” he searched for the word in an almost taunting way, “. . . insatiable appetite.” 

 

Again Severus moved closer to her and she backed up, her amber eyes wide, a flush creeping over her pale skin. In an attempt to calm her he continued to speak. “No doubt my Death Eaters will all be seeking Muggle wives after what they witnessed last night.”  He paused to let what he had said sink in. “But a lust potion? No. I have no need to stoop so low.”

It was too late for Hermione realize she had run out of mattress, her next movement pushed her over the edge. She fell off the bed with a yelp taking the black silk sheets with her. Severus suppressed a chuckle, it wouldn’t do to upset her more than she already was.   _ Patience is a virtue.  _ He reminded himself.

Hermione gathered the sheets around her naked form and stood up in the place where she had fallen. When she turned again to face Severus she realized she didn’t know quite where to look. He was lying on his side, nude as she had taken all the bed sheets with her when she tumbled onto the floor, his expression was neutral though his eyes danced with the fire of interest.  Despite the muddled nature of her memories, she could oddly recall with astounding clarity his body from the night before. It was strong and lean, not what one would expect from a man his age -- and an academic at that. There was a greek statue component to him that kept her eye and peaked her interest. His skin was the color of the finest carrara marble, so smooth and without a blemish. It was not difficult to see each muscle on professor Snape’s body, though whether it was because he was lean, used his body or a mixture of both it was hard to say. Then her eyes turned to his, well his most intimate parts, she blushed and averted her eyes. 

Her coy almost girlish nature prompted his response, “Darling,” his voice was soft, suddenly caring, “if you blush that red every time you see me without clothes, people will think you have a permanent sunburn.”

Hermione couldn’t help but grin just a bit at this dry humor she knew her former professor to have. Her distraction was short-lived however, as her mind returned to what he had said before, and a familiar clenching in her stomach brought on by surprise and disgust took hold.  Her eyes flashed with anger, “You consummated a wizarding marriage against my will,” she paused for a moment focusing her feelings so that she could actually formulate the words, “and you did it in front of a room full of people, no, a ballroom bursting with people!” 

She was yelling now, her desperation rising to the surface. Hermione wasn’t sure what made her suddenly feel so unsteady, whether it was the after effects of the potion, her sudden spike in heart rate or her inability to fully digest the situation. Her  head was getting lighter and her knees began to buckle. Noticing she was about to faint, Severus bolted from his reclining position sweeping her up in his arms before she fell to the ground. 

He brought her back to the bed, lying next to her and covering them both with the sheets again. It was indeed a side effect of the potion, she would snap out of it.  Severus ran a finger over her cheek and her eyes fluttered open. He certainly didn’t expect her hand to connect with his face so quickly and without warning. 

“I deserved that.” Severus said, rubbing his cheek. Her eyes were unwavering, so he continued, “You know better than most that wasn’t a lust potion. Think back to your fifth year studies, I’m sure you can still recite the ingredients verbatim.”

Her mind went back to her potions classroom, almost a lifetime ago, and the textbook she had almost memorized.  Hermione sifted through the pages, found the spot and visualized the page before her. The ingredients were such that they would change flavors according to the likes of the person drinking it – if anything the taste would be sweet or nothing, certainly not bitter as she had experienced.

Severus exhaled as he saw understanding flicker across her face.   _ Now we’re getting somewhere.  _

“What was it then?” Hermione asked, not moving away this time. 

His eyes held hers for a moment, then he handed her an old musty book from his bedside table.  “You’ll find what you are looking for on page one hundred thirty five.”

Hermione took the book from Severus’ hands; it was heavy and smelled of mildew.  She ran her fingers along the fragile leather cover,  _ No printed title?   _ There was a name on the cover page though,  _ Miranda Prince.  _

Her face must have given away her intrigue as Severus interjected, “My grandmother and Matilda’s sister.”

Hermione nodded and began to thumb slowly through the handwritten pages. The work, research and thought that went into the writing of this book astonished even Hermione. The footnotes were exceptional and the depth to which she wrote about, what she called, “Our ways long forgotten,” was beyond most noted academics. It was a collection of notes and descriptions of history, rituals, rites and potions that belonged to a religion or culture of some kind, one she had never heard of before.  Some of the referenced books she had heard about perhaps even read, others were obscure or lost to time.  _ Fascinating.  _ Was all Hermione could think.

Once she found the page where the potion was chronicled she read through it.  There were more questions than answers on the page before her. The potion itself was a simple one, made so that the drinker would hallucinate. But there was something else, something more the drinker would tap into a great power that could only be found once the rites were started. This person would need a suitor, a partner to guide them but it was vague -- confusing, “What happened last night?” she finally asked, her memories slowly coming back.  “What were the rites we took and how did you know I would be the one?” She looked up at him now with more curiosity than anger.

At this Severus visibly relaxed. “I will not be able to give you a satisfactory explanation tonight or even with a month’s time in which to do so, my beliefs and what you are asking are complex things at best. “ He paused a moment, as if he was trying to see how to proceed, “As cliché as it may sound it was clear to me from the moment you first came to Hogwarts that you possessed a wealth of untapped power, that your wand was a hindrance and not a help. I protected you as best I could and as long as I could, to answer your second question and to anticipate the third. “  He could see that Hermione was studying him, not knowing how to react. 

He continued, “The answer to your first question however is more complicated.  You are familiar with the concept of written history, where the winners write it their way, portraying the losers as something entirely different than reality?”

“Yes.” Hermione was intrigued by what he was saying, so much so that she hadn’t noticed him move closer to her, capturing one of her tiny hands in one of his larger ones.

“There have been many such scenarios in the wizarding world, new ideas and beliefs sweep in replacing and demonizing old ones. Voldemort did his best to rid our world of Muggle borns, espousing negative points. Though before him, before what came before him, before most anything in recorded wizarding history there was another line of thought on the subject of Muggles.”  

 

Severus ran his thumb slowly over Hermione’s fingers, creating a warm streak over her knuckles. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him, though try as she might. “There was a time when the difference between Muggles and those with magic were very small, perhaps the difference could not be perceived, except if those with the gift of magic were particularly strong. Then, depending on the culture, these magical people were either ostracized or not. Selective breeding began and slowly magic as we know it developed, became a more tamed beast perhaps one only detectable through the use of a wand to conduct it.”  Severus’ voice trailed off for a moment as he lost himself in thought. 

Hermione hung on his every word, it was interesting to say the least, these things he spoke of were not taught at Hogwarts and were obscure beliefs at best. Though they somehow spoke to her, she intrinsically knew the truth though there was not proof.  Severus continued, “Then there are those of us not in need of a wand. Those, who come along only rarely, where a wand hinders their magical energy instead of helping it. Those who are so rare, several lifetimes can pass before another comes along.“ At this comment he instinctively moved closer to Hermione. 

 

His eyes were locked with hers, the air tense with the threat of what would happen next.  “When did your magic start to manifest Hermione?”

She turned her head to the side, looking at him but thinking back.  “I was seven when these boys at school were making fun of me and then I, I blew them backwards. . .”

“No.” Severus cut her off.  “That is already a full blown manifestation, a subconscious display of power. I’m talking about before that. When things started to happen for you, things you wanted but couldn’t explain how.”  They were close now, he was looking deep into her eyes, watching her struggle to think back further and remember.

Hermione went through all the things she had ever experienced as a child before she went to Hogwarts.  Flashes taking her back to five years old, then three, then -- all the sudden it became clear that as far back as she could even remember she had always had magic around her. It had always been that way.  Books opening to the right pages, having things appear when she needed them at times even before she should be able to remember. When her eyes met his again Severus knew the answer. “But isn’t that normal in all magical families?  That children of a young age start to show some aptitude for magic?”

She was so naive of the wizarding world and this made Severus smile.   _ You have no idea how special you truly are.   _

 

He ran a finger down her face stopping at her chin.  “No Hermione, it is not. Magic might slowly begin to creep into our lives around five or six, but usually it isn’t much. When magic does appear it is cultivated by our parents -- then at school with and almost exclusively through the use of a  wand. You had nobody to guide you. Nobody to nurture that spark, you did it on your own.”

“But how does that tie into last night?” Her question was low, almost a whisper. 

“The potion you drank and the ritual we participated in has not been performed in centuries. Magic can be cultivated from the outside but it is also what you are born with, the mana you are given. It is -- finite my dear. All of us have a limit to our powers, but not you.” Severus stopped a moment, trying to see if she understood him. “Hermione not every witch or wizard could have drank that potion and lived, you not only lived but you thrived. Last night you showed every Death Eater in attendance that you are in possession of a connection to your mana, a connection to your energy, that is unparalleled -- unbridaled.”

Her eyes went wide as her memories from the night before became clear,  “The Carrows, I. . .” her hand flew to her mouth as realization washed over her. 

Severus wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his body.  “Do not shed a tear for them. They got what they deserved.”

“But how did I do that?”  She was whispering into his ear, her breath tickling his ear. 

“It is very difficult for me to explain to you, but I can show you.” Severus teased her gently, watching her pull back to look into his eyes.  He didn’t need her to say anything, he lead her by the hand to the other side of the room where a full length mirror stood. He sat down cross legged in front of it, bringing her to sit on his lap.  He gently brushed her hair to one side looking at their reflection in the mirror. “What do you see?”

“Us.” Her answer was simple.

“Close your eyes. Put your palms on mine and clear your mind.”  He watched her settle, and the features on her face change as she did her best to clear her mind.  While it seemed rather simple for her to do it, he found himself having difficulty with such a beautiful young woman placed so choicely on his lap. Unable to fight against what would inevitably happen, Severus focused his mind on his powers. He would have to channel his own powers through her, jump start her in a sense. 

It started as a tingling sensation that went through her fingertips, then slowly her shoulders, travelling through her brain and then shooting down into a bundle of energy in her core. Hermione exhaled deeply, leaning her head back and letting her mind slip deeper into darkness. Suddenly she was in the beautiful forest from yesterday. Her path was the same but this time faster, like she was running at high speed through the woods. Leaves and bushes zipped by, the light moved fast -- then all the sudden her eyes shot open.

This time when she looked into the mirror she saw Severus, his lips on her neck, his arms wrapped around her and they were bathed in a blue aura, her aura. It was like the floodgates had been open. A wisdom of the ages had been shared with her, given to her -- bestowed upon her. Hermione knew it all – the path she must take, the things she must do, the magic she would be capable of with in time.  “What do I do now?”

Severus looked up from the spot on her neck he was exploring. Almost lazily he replied, “Will us lift from the floor. Make us fly. Bend magic to your will as you were always meant to.” He said it simply as if it were the easiest thing to do in the world. He knew it wasn’t, but Hermione didn’t have to know that.

Her face held questions but Severus only urged her look forward and focus. He could have laughed at the contortion on her face as she tried to move them through the air.  She gave a frustrated snort, grabbing his knees. “Give in to yourself, will it, but don’t force it.” He whispered to her. 

With that she inhaled, closed her eyes and remembered her beautiful clearing in the woods, connecting to her center. She gave into the feelings that Severus was creating, his hands so warm his kisses so soft and passionate. They felt good, and right -- her heart was filled with a sort of hope that she had not known before. “Open your eyes.” She heard Severus say.

Her eyes opened and she found them a good six feet off the floor, only their knees and legs visible at the top of the mirror.  Hermione’s mouth went dry and tears fell from her eyes as she tried to reconcile what was actually happening with the current thoughts in her mind. Wandless magic for witches and wizards often consisted of tiny things, retrieving an object from across the room peering into someone’s mind. It was almost inconceivable to lift two people from the ground and have them hover, and somehow she knew there was so much more to come. Her joy got the better of her, as Hermione turned her head to tell Severus of her wonder, she broke her concentration and they fell to the ground. 

Severus landed with a huge thud, knocking the wind out of him. When he opened his eyes she was on top of him, her eyes full of wonderment.  “Can we do it again?” she asked as if she were a three-year-old child, asking to go on an amusement park ride.

He breathed, “As many times as you want.”

It was then that she kissed him, as they lay sprawled there naked on the cold stone floor. It was the passionate kiss of the woman he had encountered last night, it was a kiss that would be recorded as starting one of the greatest love affairs in wizarding history. This kiss would start a revolution in the wizarding world, a change of beliefs, a shift in canon. The ‘Age of Muggle Enlightenment” some would call it.  Either way bringing both wizarding and Muggle folk closer together made both stronger.

“Where do we go from here?” She asked, which was ironic to Severus for she was the chosen one, not him. It was she who held all the power, he was merely her humble servant and teacher. 

 

“I don’t know.” He admitted, for he needed to be careful with her. No one witch or wizard should possess what she possessed. There was a danger in guiding her down the wrong path and Severus knew this better than most. “But we will find it in time.”

 

They kissed again, and it gave Severus great relief to think that there would soon be balance in this world. That they would make up for what had been lost. He was, for once in his rather dark and dreadful existence, hopeful of what the future would bring.


End file.
